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John McClane in the Bath - Christmas with "Die Hard" - 54books

John McClane in the Bath - Christmas with "Die Hard" - 54books

John McClane in the Bath - Christmas with "Die Hard" - 54books

by Sandra Beck

Die Hard has its own place in my personal film biography. On the one hand, the historical date of my first reception is linked to Christmas. Because I first saw the Schweinebackerei and the hohoho showdown between John McClane (Bruce Willis) and Hans Gruber (Alan Rickman) as Die Hard sometime in the '90s when I - also for the first time - refused to attend the Christmas mass in the cathedral after the children's service. Blood, violence, swearing and strange German on screen, crib, Christmas tree, unwrapped presents diagonally to the right of the television. On the other hand, seeing the film marks a counter-concept to a Christmas whose family-prescribed rituals and ceremonies were essentially timed by attending church services. In other words: The condition for seeing the film was that you left the family for a short time, because everyone else went to church.

The question of whether Die Hard should be understood as a Christmas film keeps flaring up before the holidays. Especially in English-speaking countries, the discussion itself seems to be part of the countdown to Christmas as a habitual running gag. For example, there is a breakdown of favorite Christmas movies by US state, based on data from the film rating site Rotten Tomatoes. Here Die Hard leads in Washington, Missouri, Wisconsin and Virginia. In contrast, in a poll conducted in 2018, 62% of respondents agree that Die Hard is not a Christmas film. Bruce Willis categorically declared that same year: "Die Hard is not a Christmas movie! It's a goddamn Bruce Willis movie!"

Looking back on the successful establishment of 'Bruce Willis' as the embodiment of a specific action brand, this classification cannot be dismissed out of hand, but it is only partially satisfactory, since the two genre definitions cannot be regarded as clearly distinguishable. Steven de Souza, on the other hand, who co-wrote the screenplay with Jeb Stuart, supports his position pro Christmas Movie with a lengthy comparison between Die Hard and White Christmas (1954), supposedly the Christmas movie par excellence. His juxtaposition not only claims comparability, but even presents Die Hard as the winner of the duel - both from a quantitative point of view, such as the simple number of Christmas carols in the soundtrack, and in view of the classic topoi.

For when asked about the selfless victim portrayed, John McClane's body in pain unquestionably trumps the charitable act in White Christmas of arranging for a train ticket upgrade. Focusing on the moral message, Die Hard also wins when compared to a modern classic in the Christmas film genre: “In a time when the transfiguration of repulsive and derogatory behavior into Actually…Love is considered the material for a beloved Christmas classic, choose I have no hesitation in the moral clarity of a John McClane and his trusty submachine gun."

Action Movies: Time of Miracles

If one disregards surveys of a US audience and the retrospective, joking statements of the participants, one arrives at the conclusion that Christmas films and the Action cinema follow similar rules of the game, depending on the perspective. This point has already been debated on social media:

So far, research has hardly concerned itself with Die Hard as a Christmas movie. Rather, her focus is on the question of staged masculinity against the background of the Reagan era. And the results are clear: Hypermasculine white masculinity is celebrated with wit – “a single real man […] against a pack of false contenders for the crown of manhood”[1] Not only the gang of international hostage-takers appear as illegitimate suitors in Die Hard , which John McClane was forced to defeat single-handedly, but also the feminist emancipation staged as a threat to the family, the arrogant businessmen and the global 'other'.

So what we see is a well-defined body teasing itself as it grapples with emancipation, globalization, terrorism, and state failure. According to Elizabeth Abele, John McClane appears only as "another man separated from his family by duty, but with the strength, the macho stoicism, and the self-sacrificing fortitude to single-handedly go to the rescue."[2]

With this reversal of agency, which does not focus on Holly McClane's decision to move to Los Angeles for her career, but rather on John McClane's decision to continue being a cop in New York, a reading of the film can begin, which Die Hard reads as a Christmas edition of the (cop) action film genre. The film then appears as a cheerful and ironically self-reflective genre update with the special punchline that in the magnanimous Christmas Spirit all male characters seem to be granted their greatest wish. For example, 'the bad guys' around Hans Gruber repeatedly invoke the promise of a miracle in their rebellious Christmas plans:

HANS It's Christmas. Just the right time for miracles. So be optimistic.

This conflicting arrangement of gifts and wishes is fought out between the real Christmas heroes and the anti-holiday criminals and their fake Christmas spirit on the suffering, harried and aching, but also ironically self-mocking body of John McClane. And this body in pain demonstrates superior white masculinity on the vertical battlefield of Nakatomi Tower as the urban boundary.

Coming Home for Christmas: claim and reality

This body is introduced as married and cramped with fear of flying. He is addressed by the person sitting next to him, who is introduced in the script as "Babbitt clone", "ozz[ing with] confidence":

NEW SEAT You're scared of flying, aren't you? [...] I'll give you a good tip on how to overcome the fear of flying. When you've landed where you're going, take off your shoes and socks and take a leisurely hop down the gangway, barefoot, clenching your toes like fists.

JOHN My toes like fists?

SEAT NEIGHBOR Yes, I know, I know, that sounds crazy. But believe me, I've been doing this for nine years.

Upon landing in Los Angeles, this tense, married body becomes a gun-and-check shirt body, irritably-sympathetically responding to the flight attendant's attempts at flirtation. Given the businessman's startled look at McClane's Beretta, the dry reply follows:

JOHN It's okay, I'm a cop. Believe me, I've been doing this job for eleven years.

This short conversation is revealing and sets out several lines of conflict: the tension between a tense body and a casual slogan, but also the contrast between the arrogant hubris of the frequent flier in the spirit of big corporate, who up until now has at best had to clench his toes on fluffy carpets, and the humble, down-to-earth average guy with a daily routine of violence, who is addressed over and over again as a New York cop. This is also the case in the conversation with Mr. Takagi, his wife's supervisor, and her colleague Ellis, whom he surprises while having coke in her office. For a Christmas film, Die Hard develops a thoroughly ideal-typical constellation in the opening sequences: corporate greed on a global scale against the 'little man'. At the same time, techniques of survival have been prominently introduced along with entertainment on the plane. Clenched toes may be a good strategy for 'surviving' jet lag, but when battling a gang of criminals, bare toes are a painful disadvantage.

Paul Cohen reads this toe scene as a negotiation of masculinity and sums it up: “The real man can clench his hands into real fists. The wrong man – as if the principle were turned on its head – can only make a fist with his toes.”[3] What is overlooked here, however, is that following the advice was an integral part of John McClane's constituent scenes of the film is in the bath. There are two of them in the film. The first takes place right after his arrival at the Nakatomi Building and is introduced by the following dialogue:

TAKAGI She (looking at Holly McClane) is perfect for our business. Hard as a rock. […]

ELLIS Show him the clock. .

HOLLY It's about time.

ELLIS Come on, do it. You don't have to be embarrassed. Just a small acknowledgment for the successful work. A Rolex, of course.

JOHN I'll see her soon enough. Is there somewhere I can freshen up here?

On the topic of conversation - the praise for the good work of his wife and the forced symbolic display of her professional success - John reacts brusquely by refocusing his attention on the needs of his body. This naturalness, with which communication in a professional setting is suddenly directed to the husband's body and body care, is highly irritating. After all, you might expect him to show up to the Christmas party dressed appropriately and at least with some deodorant on. Surely it is also shown how alien John McClane is in this environment. At the same time, however, the scene leads to the center of the negotiated discourse and at the same time prepares the action spectacle that follows, in which the public space of Holly's workplace is forced back into a private sphere, the central theme of which is concern for John's body. Reflecting on the genre, one may also see the hint of another variant of militant masculinity - McClane's desire "to wash himself up" in contrast to Rambo's resistance to the imposed "clean him up".

John McClane in the bath - Christmas with

The trope Coming Home for Christmas is also staged in the tension between claim and reality: John is not expected at the airport by his family, but by an emissary from the company. The disappointed expectations of Christmas codes are then expressed in the semi-privacy of a bathroom attached to the office.

HOLLY I missed you very much.

HOLLY This is a Japanese company. They believe that a married woman...

JOHN You're a married woman, Holly. you are married to me […] HOLLY We already had this discussion in July.

JOHN But we didn't finish them in July.

HOLLY That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I couldn't say no to that. .

JOHN No, of course. Regardless of any consequences. For you, this job was the most important thing. […] I don't think you have any idea how I envision a marriage.

HOLLY I know exactly how you want to marry me.

Although Yvonne Tasker's observation: "American action films work hard, and often at the expense of stringent plot development, to thread moments where the hero's body can be displayed."[4] cannot be fundamentally contradicted, in case from Die Hard it looks different. The fact that John undresses before the argument reverses the power constellation presented in the conversation; the designed scenery now evokes the image of the husband returning home, exhausted from work, washing off the day's toil from his body and chatting with his wife about her day. However, the discussion that develops assigns the position of power to Holly, the wife. The focus is on her prioritizing her own career over the ideas of marriage that her husband adheres to. The return to her maiden name in a professional context and the adornment of her body with corporate codes are precisely the signs of a family breakdown that are erased as the film progresses. But we are not there yet.

In the mirror

Because first of all, the couple's conversation is interrupted, John remains alone in the bathroom - and quite self-critically considers the failure of his communication efforts: "That was great, John. Good job, very mature.” Visually, this monologue allows the film to present the male body as vulnerable and unharmed. Because the emotional disappointment contrasts with a healthy physique. The positioning in front of the mirror ensures that we see this body as powerful and completely unharmed and witness it digging its toes into the bathroom carpet and commenting on this with a pleasantly surprised "Son of a Bitch".

At this point it is already to be assumed that this relationship will be reversed, since we have long since seen scenes showing how unknown criminals approach, kill a security guard in a concerted action and seal off the building from the outside world. With John McClane, half-naked in the bath, hidden from the terrorist attack, there is now an unequivocal change of genre to action films, which includes the option of probation and redemption and in return demands the body in pain. Philippa Gates has already emphasized this in a comparable way:

To win back Holly's love, McClane must first prove both his manliness and heroism by defeating the villains who threaten Holly. McClane's body is the surface on which his struggle is shown in a double sense, first through the display of the naked and toned physique, later through the visible wounds, scars and injuries in the fight against the bad guys.[5]

This thesis can be illustrated using the example of bare toes in a casual picture arrangement. Because the first terrorist that John kills by accident has his shoes taken off, but they don't fit our hero. He comments: “There are nine million terrorists in the world. And I end up with someone who has smaller feet than my sister.” Wise-cracking in the name of one's manhood. However, this interpretation can be made more precise when looking at the second bathroom scene.

By then, the setting has completely changed. The focus is no longer the indignation at the anti-family champagne party of the foreign company, at which an important deal and Christmas are celebrated at the same time, but exhaustion and injury to a body. The clean and unharmed body shown in the mirror at the beginning has become flesh, it suffered badly in the fight against the hostage-takers; John doubts his own survival. The formerly snow-white fine-rib undershirt – signature of a proletarian underdog occupation – is soaked in blood and sweat, the soles of the feet have been shredded in a sea of ​​broken glass. In a radio-established bromance with patrolman Al Powell, McClane then sums up the process of finding out about his private life:

Listen, I don't know how much time I have left... And I want you to do me a favor. You have to find my wife... [...] I want her to know one thing. You have to tell her that... it took me a while to realize I was an idiot. A total idiot. ... When she suddenly had a great career, I should have ... stood by her. And... stick by her. Do you understand? That would have been correct. […] Tell her that … that she was the best thing that someone like me could come across. I've told her at least a thousand times that I love her. But I could never tell her: I'm sorry. And I want you to tell her, Al. You have to tell her: John said he was sorry. […] Do you understand? Is everything clear, man?

Since this confession is spoken as the last words between brothers in arms, neither the order nor the content are surprising. However, it remains unclear when exactly McClane had time to think about his ideas about marriage and his relationship to feminism and female success in the workplace. However, if you recall the first scene in the bath, this becomes plausible. The original hard body appears as a bleeding body in pain, barely able to move or resist. Even if Al or we couldn't take it, we can carry his message. What is significant, however, is that this apology – by the way not an admission of having acted wrongly – is also addressed incorrectly. Because the scene is functionalized as a moment of male bonding, the original conversation partner is replaced by the second cop. And the film's imagery ensures that the correction of gender roles it suggests is clearly overwritten.

On the one hand, for the final fall of Hans Gruber, the Rolex has to be detached from Holly's wrist. Only after the male-coded sign of her professional success and her attractiveness to other men has been stripped from her body can evil be defeated and the damsel in distress saved. On the other hand, in terms of film language, the central happy ending is not the reunion of John and Holly.

"Find yourself someone who looks at you like Al looks at John"

Of course, at the end of the film, John and Holly are reconciled in the obligatory kiss, but faith, love, hope and the traditional Christmas spirit are attached the film perhaps most clearly recalls the relationship between Al Powell and John McClane. Powell's unwavering loyalty and his unconditional belief in McClane are based on the media-mediated recognition of the other as a real cop. While the two police officers, off and on duty, from New York and Los Angeles, end up hugging each other, Al only warns Holly to value her husband as he deserves: “You have a brave husband. Take good care of him.”

But this is shown most emphatically in his transformation and the restoration of his ability to act. Powell, who killed a child on duty and hasn't been able to draw his gun since, unhesitatingly but from a safe distance shoots the last terrorist who has risen from the rubble of Nakatomi Plaza. He overcomes his own trauma as he is now responsible for protecting John and Holly as the McClane family.

Like the premise, "This is radio. Not television” to date on the ear testimony, his actions now bear eloquent testimony of healing and redemption, of the fact that the courage, the commitment to one's own code of honor and the self-overcoming of McClane set a precedent. After the transformation of the emancipated businesswoman into a loving wife and mother and the restoration of the nuclear family, the resurrection of a cop is celebrated as a value in itself. He saves exactly that core family by not withdrawing to the specifications of superiors, but acting self-determined according to his own cosmos of values.

Of all the government agencies that have been called and asked for help - from the fire department to the FBI - only the traumatically injured patrolman has proven himself. And in this regard, it is only logical that the film also returns to Al Powell musically at the end and underscores the end credits with its musical theme: Let it Snow. The fact that the last notes of Let it snow are followed by Beethoven's Ode to Joy, the soundscape of Hans Gruber, is to be understood as a reference to a dark Christmas marked by the "lords of misrule" who must be defeated year after year. Because after the party is before the party.

The German dubbed version of the film was quoted. The citations from the research have been translated from English into German for better understanding.

The text is the written version of a lecture that was given at the "Reading Christmas Films" workshop at the end of November 2021 at the Fernuni Hagen. Two more articles in this series will appear in the weeks leading up to Christmas. On Tuesday 14.12. another digital evening lecture will take place (program here). The evening lecture by Simon Sahner from 30.11. you can look it up on youtube.


[1] Michael Kimmel: Manhood in America. A Cultural History. New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press 1998, p. 222.

[2] Elizabeth Abele: Assuming a True Identity. Re/De-Constructing Hollywood Heroes. In: Journal of American & Comparative Cultures 25 (2003) 3-4, pp. 447-454, here p. 449.

[3] Paul Cohen: Cowboys Die Hard. Real Men and Businessmen in the Reagan-era Blockbuster. In: Film & History 41 (2011) H. 1. pp. 71–81, here p. 73.

[4] Yvonne Tasker: Spectacular bodies. Gender, genre and the action cinema. London 1995, p. 79.

[5] Philippa Gates: Detecting Men. Masculinity and the Hollywood Detective Film. New York 2006, p. 143.

Photo by Patrick Reichboth on Unsplash

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